


The Colonel's Jacket

by Echuinox



Category: Original Work, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Revolution, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-30 20:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10170866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echuinox/pseuds/Echuinox
Summary: Francis 'Fia' Emberfell is a canonner for the 17th Massachusetts regiment, leading a small battalion against his Majesty's forces along the colony's southern coast. The tides of war are changing and the confrontation coming to a head inspires an unlikely alliance to be formed. Adrian Soleil is a doctor of the British army sent to make sure people live to see the other side of this war. He is taken captive by Fia's infantry and must make a choice- continue to save lives of his enemy or rot in the silence a jail cell. Fia and Adrian must learn to get along and live with their different views of the world and find a way out of this war alive- together.





	1. Under Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Echuinox

They met in a forest at dawn.

His hands had been made and crafted to heal. To pump life into the chests of his patients. But now they seemed to be only pumping death. _One…two…three…_ his hands stuttered over the blue coats heart. The boy had to only be fourteen. The revolutionists had taken children from their mother’s breasts. Adrian gasped, grappling to keep him alive. He’d tried to give him painkillers to keep the shock at bay- but he’d only vomited them up. Now glazed eyes were staring into the reddening sky.

He’d been so focused, his red jacket stripped off and thrown by the bushes. The boy he had been trying to save was lost. The battle had been done for hours now. His infantry had been chased away into the woods by the rebels. But when he’d been fleeing he paused, the boy had been gasping in pain, whimpering for help.

Compassion and pity had made him stop running. Had made his defenses stall.

Now he knelt in the mud, staring down at the young face. What had his name been? He pulled the cross from inside his shirt, pressing it to his mouth as he whispered the Lord’s prayer over the body…

But a brief peace was never to last in times of war. The rebel smashed through the dense undergrowth, his rapier raised. Fury twitched over his face seeing the British soldier kneeling over the young body. Adrian wanted to gasp his explanation, to tell his side of the story and what had happened here. But the wild blonde man was yelling, charging at him with sword raised.

He had been terrible at dueling. Terrible at ever hurting anyone. He had become a doctor so he could help- not so he could fight wars. How many times had he been called a sissy for his gentler nature? For how he flinched at noises too loud. For how easily his skin bruised.

They scuffled in the dirt, grunting and gasping. Their swords clashing and causing a stinging ring in the dusty air. Always, always Adrian tried to turn and flee. But long fingered hands were grabbing his dirty shirt, dragging him back to face what he'd done. In five minutes he was flat on his back with the blonde canonner scowling over him, sword at his throat.

“You killed him,” the rebel hissed. Others were charging through the woods with their voices raised.

So this was how he was going to die. Three feet from the life he was trying to save.

“I was trying to save him,” he whispered, feeling his Adams apple bob against steel.

Blue eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed in suspicion, “You lie.”

“I was trying to save him,” he said again, softer this time. This would be his last prayer.

The voices were getting closer and still the blonde did nothing. They just looked up at each other. His sword twitched and Adrian closed his wide honey eyes as tears slid past his temples. “Just do it fast,” he breathed. He wanted the image of the sky turning pink and yellow to be his last.

“Fia!” the voices called, “Colonel Emberfell!”

“I’m here!” the blonde’s voice bellowed. Footfalls were shaking the ground by his head.

Adrian’s eyes opened just enough to see the confusion on the rebel’s face. “Please,” he begged softly. Not for his life. Just that he wouldn’t suffer.

“Colonel!”

“I'm here dammit!” Fia barked. His sword was suddenly sheathed and his hands reached down, gripping Adrian hard and lifting him to his feet. Adrian just gaped, rattled and dismayed, “and I’ve got a prisoner!”

No. This wasn’t what he wanted. He was surprised by the betrayal he felt, by the hurt he looked at this stranger with. This wasn’t a clean and honorable death. He would be lead to the gallows and spend months in their jail cells being tortured and made to rot. Fia stared back, blue eyes wide and confused. A canvas bag was in his hands, the shuddering images of the troops behind him.

The last thing Adrian saw was not the dawn sky as he wished. They were blue eyes cunning and sharp as flint.


	2. Shackled in Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Echuinox

Two months he had been shackled to the rebels. Two months of bawdy comments, poking and prodding, jabs and punches thrown under the secrecy of darkness. Men who were simply angry and using the closest thing to the crown they had to take it out. Their anger made him curl further in on himself. While he’d stuttered his name and rank when he’d first arrived- he’d been too terrified to speak since. Afraid the deep baritone of his British accent would set one off. That they would fly into frenzies and pull out pistols to shoot him down with.

Adrian could barely blame them.

They came by the ramshackle cell they had for him. Sometimes made of wood. Sometimes just a stake driven into the ground. They were kind enough to give him a blanket at least and broth and water. Though he was beginning to wonder if it was the mysterious Lieutenant-Colonel Fia that was his saving grace.

The canonner was kind enough. He appeared much more often than others did. Sometimes to heap an extra blanket onto him when he was forced to face the weather alone. When the wind and rain picked up even called for a tarp to be put over the cage they’d built. But now they were on the meadowy banks by the sea, marching towards an outpost to resupply. Adrian’s back was turned to it, his thinning shoulder blades shuddering like the slim wings of a bird under his shirt. It was the clicking of heeled boots and dusty earth being kicked that made him raise his dirty head.

Fia looked down at him, frowning at the messy disarray that the medic had taken into. “We’ll be within proper shelter soon- with a better cell for you.”

Adrian said nothing. At first it was stubbornness and pride that kept him silent. Now he was strangely used to it. Now silence was what kept him safe.

“We must break through blue coat lines to get there first…I suppose you will be thrilled if we’re whipped.”

Quiet. He wasn’t pleased at the idea of death. Was appalled it had ever been suggested.

Fia gave a slow blink, watching the sharp insult spike through honey brown eyes. “Well if you don’t talk you won’t be able to scream for their help you know.”

A soft, pretty mouth turned down in a frown. With the wind buffeting off the ocean this way men had a hard time hearing each other five feet away- let alone miles.

Fia heaved a sigh, looking to the sky as the sun spoke of noon. He looked down to the pathetic medic, a shackle on his ankle tied to the stake driven deep into the earth. Slowly he shrugged out of his coat and threw it onto him. Adrian gave a grunt of displeasure, ripping it off his head so his red hair turned wild and looking up. His freckled face flushed in deep displeasure as he looked at the blue and the shining little stars of his rank. He swallowed, considering letting pride take over common sense. It would be no use to anyone if he caught sick.

His shoulders were too broad to fit through the sleeves so he simply wrapped it around himself and tucked his knees tight to his chest. Fia watched, cloud blue eyes that shined so soft in the sunlight they nearly turned white. After a moment he kicked a rock and turned away. “I will see you after the battle then.”

Adrian swallowed, lifting his head just enough to watch the cannoner swagger away. Dread slicked a cold finger down his back and he balled up tighter under the coat that smelled faintly of shaving cream and sandalwood.

In the end he was left in that spot in the camp. Curled and hunkered down, kicking and shifting the soft earth in hopes of making a shallow hole to break the wind. He was curled, back turned to where he could hear the battle raging miles away.

When it got dark he could see canon fire and he thought of blue eyes.

It was morning when they finally came back. Staggering but cheering. They had won it seemed and Adrian swallowed his fear for the people on the other end.

They returned with bodies and the parts of bodies. Limbs that some of them clung to with wide eyes as they bled out. Adrian grimaced as there would be no helping those. They were better put down quickly before they suffered much longer. The wreckage of battle was one he had grown accustomed to. From the sight of pale faces and glazing eyes he could count who would be dead by nightfall.

But one pale face struck him somewhere fierce.

Fia stared at the sky, cursing under his breath and groaning as the men carried him. A bullet was lodged in his thigh and their medic, a boy years younger than Adrian and probably fresh from schooling, frantically hovered his hands over the wound. They were all talking so fast, whispering and garbling with Fia’s curses punctuating the air as they spoke of pain killers.

The rebel medic looked up, eyes huge, “I thi…think we m-might have to amputate, sir.”

It was the other men’s outrage that spoke for him. Fia’s eyes were too large and owl-like on his face. Of all places they turned to Adrian, sitting up now in his pathetic hole as they spoke of removing the canonner’s leg. His thin mouth whispered the words, “Please…”

His voice was hoarse from it’s lack of use. Achy and sore. “You’re wrong,” he wheezed, trying to get it out. Why weren’t they paying attention. Fia was looking at him now, mouth opened into an ‘O’ of surprise. “Stop…stop!” Adrian’s voice broke, the hissing of his accent making them all pause. Adrian flushed, nervous now as glowing eyes all seemed to turn onto him, “You don’t have to amputate. He doesn’t have to lose his leg. You can remove the bullet.”

The medic looked pale, “We don’t…we don’t have the resources.”

“You have garlic, yes? Garlic and echinacea roots?”

“W-well yes…for tea and cooking-”

“Idiot. You can use those for antibacterial ointments and supplements.”

He flushed now, embarrassed, “The hell does a stupid red coat know-”

“Can you save my leg?” Fia’s voice was a piney tenor of worry as it intersected any insults about to be slung his way.

Adrian looked at them all, at the suspicion on their faces, and his eyes found Fia’s once more. It was not a matter of _could_ he. It was a matter of _would_ he.

The silence that had guarded him before shuddered between them for a breath. “I can.”

They didn’t waste anymore time. He was unshackled from his stake in the ground and moved to the medical tent. Adrian’s skin stung and felt sandpaper rough now that he was out of the wind. He leaned over Fia at first, watching the blonde’s head toss in pain. The canonner had been the only one to be kind. He was Adrian’s only protector in this gruesome scene of capture and and cruelty. If he died then Adrian’s salvation and small comforts were gone.

The hours were excruciating as Adrian worked and ordered the young medic back and forth. Collecting herbs and plants to turn into oils and teas. Using as little as he could of their precious iodine to clean the wound. Feeding Fia pain medication and men holding him down as he carefully worked the bullet out of his leg, sterilized and stitched him. A soft yellow powder of yarrow to stem bleeding and antibacterial oils to promote natural health of the body. Clean gauze that, with surprisingly gentle and soft hands wrapped tight around the leg.

“Looks like you got a guardian angel Lieutenant-Colonel Francis,” one man whispered.

“More like a red coat,” another hissed, “We should keep him. Put him to work if Fia lives.”

Fia and Adrian said nothing as Adrian carefully massaged oils into his skin, his brow set in worry. “You’re lucky the bullet wasn’t deep and easy to remove. Rather than that blasted idiot take off your whole leg…”

“Seems I finally got you to talk…” Fia smiled, voice velvety soft under the pain killers. 

Adrian scowled in annoyance as he leaned over the blonde, watching those cloud blue eyes brighten, “I’m sure I’ll make you regret it soon enough. _Francis_.” 

Fia watched the doctor pace about the tent, organizing and cleaning. Large, expert hands hovering over the tools provided and the life saving collection of ointments and herbs. He watched how when the candle light pitched it made his hair look like fire and the honey color of his eyes turn molten gold. “Perhaps…” he whispered, listening to the deep baritone hum off key and wishing he would speak again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.


	3. Black Flower Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Echuinox and Quelfabulous

The plan had been to quickly bathe and then return. Walk to the river and back with no stops in between.

Adrian was intent on keeping his side of the deal. The barracks they had been stationed at for a month now at least keeping the chill of the ocean away. It had been ages since he had felt so clean and tidy. Fia’s curling nose and demand he finally get a proper bath a moment of great relief. Now he hurried back to the canonner, who was still resting his injured leg, with the hopes that his return would prompt the removal of the shackles on his ankles.

With some bitterness he had agreed to teach their rather pathetic medic. While men certainly still passed on- the rate of which they perished had already lessened. It brought Adrian small ounces of pride. That the colonists had really never been aware of the boon of the earth they were surrounded by had appalled him. They had herbs of such plenty he could only dream of back home.

Such an herb paused him now, unable to help kneeling to look at the plentiful bush of yarrow. With so much around they would be able to stop any fever outbreaks. A bit smug with his knowledge he touched a healthy leaf, not minding as his knees became muddy from the fresh rain. Perhaps if they planted more there would be plenty for others as well…

“Well if it isn’t the redcoat…who let the little rat free?”

Adrian slowly lifted his head, cold with sudden fear. Fia had promised him to be treated well- but the Lieutenant-Colonel couldn’t be everywhere at once and his men still had bones to pick. He swallowed, head lowering again, wanting to feel small and hoping they would move on if they got bored. His silence, it seemed, was still his guardian. More than any loud-mouthed blonde bluecoat had been.

A harsh kick hit his back, making him grunt and fall to his elbows and knees. Pain of a new bruise on top of an old one made his skin pulse with heat. His head jerked, forcibly lowering closer to the earth. One man had stepped his long, freshly washed braid into the mud and had brought his neck in a painful yank with it. They laughed as he made no noise, the shuddering of his thin shoulders the only true giveaway of his fear. One man grabbed the back of his neck, pushing his face closer to the ground as he gasped and fought back.

“Damn crown licker walking around like he’s better than the lot of us. You should be in the mud with your blasted flowers where you belong.”

A kick to his stomach made him stop fighting, a low groan coming from his mouth as the side of his face was smeared against the mud. He braced himself for more but the tension left him as soon as it came. There was scuffling, grunting, and shouting and Adrian ducked, hands cupping the back of his neck to protect himself. He looked up just enough to glance at those who were fighting now and his eyes widened. Fia was pinning one of the offenders to a tree.

“He’s a fucking redcoat…” hissed the man through his teeth writhing against the scrappy oak tree with Fia’s fingers entangled harshly on the cravat at his throat.

“He’s a fucking doctor, you insolent fool! Do you understand how valuable that man is to us?” Fia’s eyes narrowed, burning even, as he pressed the subordinate’s throat tighter to the tree. “Of all seventeen regiments we have but three. _Three fucking men_ who give our wounded a second chance among the hundreds, and this one is by far the most capable and not a quack-pot. Now _you_ listen here, Sergeant. All of you.” The Lieutenant-Colonel shifted his gaze to the other heckling troops that stood watching. “If I catch another sniff of _any_ disrespect towards Subaltern Soleil, I will personally ensure your bare ass is tied to nature’s liberty pole and tarred for insubordination. Do I make myself clear?” 

The man scowled at his superior’s terms, further looking past the Lieutenant-Colonel’s shoulder at Adrian. The sharp slap of Fia’s long hand met his face. “Answer me, Sergeant.” 

“…Yes, Lieutenant-Colonel.” 

“That will be all. Get beck to your duties. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery. Our supplies need to be stocked to leave at dawn.” Fia loosened his grip from the man’s neck and turned to walk away. He caught a glance then, looking down to Adrian in the mud.

The doctor was sitting up with as much dignity as he could muster. His body ached, he was tired and hungry and sore. Adrian had been made to do everything last- eat, sleep, even bathe. Such brutality of living was not what he was used to and now he had scrapes and bruises to show for the hardship. He looked up and Fia blanched in a turning of guilt. He had seen men defeated before in a physical sense, when they dragged themselves home from battle but were still roaring with a fight. But he never saw them so emotionally defeated as Adrian did. He had the resigned air of a man who knew his lot in life and had been beaten into accepting it. Fia’s jaw worked silently as he looked away.

Adrian looked at the yarrow plant with hate and slowly he stepped on it as he stood, crushing the plant under his foot till it was no good to anyone. He swallowed past the hurt in his throat and turned away as Fia began to speak. The rattle of his shackles drowned out the noise of the canonner hurrying to keep up.

“Subaltern Soleil…” Fia’s voice called after him. Adrian was heading towards the cells of the barracks. So far he was their only prisoner and hearing the voice behind him made him walk faster. “ _Soleil_ …” Fia sighed, catching the door as it was swung harshly on him, “ _Adrian!_ ” he barked in frustration.

But Adrian was back in his cell, shutting the steel door tight and ensuring it was locked just as Fia arrived. His eyes were wide in surprise and he frowned, looking for the key that was supposed to be hanging on the wall. Adrian fished it from his pocket and let it drop on the makeshift bed he had made of a thin mattress packed with straw and blankets. Fia frowned, startled, “How did you get that key?”

Adrian gave a scoff, very carefully peeling off his now muddy shirt and jacket. His hair had returned to being matted, the shining red it had been turned to a mucky brown. “You should make sure your guards are not drunk when they are on duty Francis.”

A flush covered Fia’s face and he frowned, cloud blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, “That is Lieutenant-Colonel to you. I have never seen a red coat lock themselves up before…” His gaze fell lower and his thin mouth turned into a frown of displeasure. 

Bruises laced up and down Adrian’s ribs and chest. Even the marks of a belt had raised welts against his narrowing back. The lean muscle he had come to them with had withered and turned to the desperate look of a hungry man. Adrian glared, moving away from the sunlight of the windows in an effort to hide. To make himself smaller and less seen. “I am safer in here than I am out there…”

Fia was shocked into silence for a time, swallowing the lump of surprised guilt in his throat as he watched Adrian use his dirty shirt to try to work the mud from his hair. “They won’t touch you again,” he said it soft, having realized long ago the doctor did not respond well to shouting or noise, “I promise you that.”

Adrian scoffed, deep and mocking. A fresh bruise was blooming like a black flower between his shoulder blades. He raised his face just enough to look at Fia with scorn, “I would rather them hit me then other ways they will deem suitable. ‘Forget’ to let me rations for a few days. Give me clothes too small or too thin.”

Red patched across Fia’s cheeks in frustration, “They won’t do that.”

“Of course they will. They already have- and if you think they haven’t then you’re blind to the level of their hatred. Use me all you like to be your doctor _Francis_. They will do what they can to see me suffer.”

Fia’s lips pressed into a thin line, “Then you will stay in my tent,” he growled, “you’ll eat dinner with me, you’ll be outfitted with me, you’ll even bathe with me if that’s what it damn takes. We _need_ you. I never thought I would ever say that to a redcoat but the men…the _boys_ here need a doctor.”

Adrian was silent, head bowed as he stared at the muck covered blue of the coat he was given. He said nothing in response.

A sharp breath was taken in with a harsh sigh, “You’re of no use to anybody locked in a kennel like a dog all day long.”

“And then what?” Adrian barked in response, coming towards the bars that Fia leaned on. His soft brown eyes looking as buffeted as the slopes outside, “I care for your men and stay in your tent and then what? When the war is over I return to a cell once I’ve finished my use? Is that your plan for me? Use me till I’m nod good anymore and then lock me back where I belong?”

Fia was silent, jaw working as he thought in contemplative silence, “Help my men…care for them the best you are able and see them healthy…and if we win this war you go home.” Adrian scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief as Fia gripped the bars harder, “I swear it. I will write it down and sign it myself and send it to the generals and George Washington himself. If you help us- then you will go free at the end of this.”

They stood in silence, Adrian not meeting the canonner’s eyes and instead fastening them on the thin and pathetic bed. Fia let out a sigh, letting go of the bars and leaning away. It was hopeless. Adrian was too beaten and bruised, too sour and defeated by those who had kicked and harmed him.

But as he turned his back, before he walked away a rattling made Fia turn his head about. Adrian was undoing the lock of his cell and quietly pushed the squeaky door open. He stepped out, looking at Fia with great discomfort at the lack of metal bars between them. But he took a small step forward, having to shuffle-walk as the shackles rattled on his feet. Adrian folded his arms tight across his chest, pulling a wool blanket about his shoulders to hide. Fia’s eyebrows raised up on his forehead, frowning at the doctor.

Adrian’s voice was a little hoarse as he spoke and he raised his chin up a little, “I want extra blankets…your tent is horrifically drafty.”

Fia blinked once, relaxing as he let out a snort and held the door open for them. “I will see what can be done good doctor…”

“And I want to take another bath.”

“Demanding little thing aren’t you?”


	4. Filling Pockets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Echuinox and Quelfabulous

He didn't really remember what he was dreaming about- just that he was scared. That a chill had settled on his chest and ice was running through his lungs.

"Soleil.."

A tenor voice hoarse with a morning rasp chipped the ice.

"Subaltern Soleil, at attention. _Soleil!_ " Fia stood half inside the flap of the tent, sleep still crusting his light eyes with a furrow on his blonde brow. The man carried a leather satchel on his narrow hip opposite the sheath of his rapier, draped lazily in his under linens and boots shuffled over his wrinkled breeches.

Adrian shot up from a cold sweat in his cot, blinking slowly at the unraveled facade of the Lieutenant-Colonel, the pink of sunlight lifting in the sky behind him.

"If you want to bathe, best do it before the cock crows," came the words and a blink of the man's stony eyes before the tent flap slipped shut.

Surefooted, the tall blonde man lead them over the meadow and a trail made only by the imprints of soldier's boots. But the muddied streak through the grass faded to a fresh carpet. Adrian looked around at a world alien to him. A world blank of cobblestone or direction, but Fia kept trekking onward, a deliberate sense about the man. He knew these woods. He knew exactly where they were and he knew where he wouldn't be disturbed in his early morning routine.

Adrian's face took one of gentle surprise as the hill broke into the rocky bank of a river, the white trunks of birch rising like a cathedral's pillars as the sound of moving water rustled with the color of autumn painting the canopy above. No sooner did his mouth hang agape in quiet reverie was it jolted by the splash, turning to see Fia waist deep in the river's gentle current.

"Is that how you Brits bathe? Stand with your mouth open and expect the water to scrub the soot off your skin?" Fia quipped over his shoulder before turning more, only to notice the doctor's eyes had fallen to his back. The canonner shifted uneasily, turning away and cupping water along his arm.

It was true. The doctor had been staring, but only at the marred stretch of skin that crossed the Lieutenant-Colonel's back, something sympathetic licking his brow as he stripped down to his breeches and crouched at the river's edge, catching water in his hands to wash his face. "My father was a quiet patriot. The loyalists ratted him out. British soldiers stormed our home at supper." The other man continued weakly over his shoulder, "My brother and I were boys...and I wasn't about to be a martyr that night. They branded us like the livestock we are. Tis all we are to the king. Grow the colonies, he says," Fia sneered at his reflection in the water below him. "Grow his fat pockets and have the audacity to tax what keeps us alive."

Fia turned, watching the doctor as he slowly and awkwardly averted his gaze. Adrian had nothing to say on the matter. Slowly he toed into the water, flinching at the cold and hissing as he slid in. He shivered in discomfort, giving a groan as he slid lower and lower with a pleased look in his honey eyes. What a blessed relief the cold water was against the yellowing of his bruises. He untangled his braid, letting the red hair fall in a heavy cape against his back and down his hips.

"Not used to bathing in rivers? I'm sure you have a gilded tub back home perhaps?" Fia's eyes narrowed as Adrian simply lowered himself to his knees in the river so he could soak his aching head. Exasperated, the canonner sighed, "Ever why do you never seem speak? If it pleases you to annoy me then you have succeeded."

The doctor turned his head, his hair glowing under the bubbling water. He was frustratingly silent for only a moment longer, "They seem to...get angry when they hear my voice. My accent. It is not so different from yours truly but it is more from the motherland. It must remind them more of the King."

"Perhaps if you talked more they would get used to it- they would probably like you more if they knew anything about you."

Adrian snorted, eyes closing as he relaxed in the water and careful to never move too deep. "They will hate me no matter what. Telling them that I was born in London to a wealthy family of alchemists and militant lords born into their fancy titles would do nothing to promote good will."

Fia blinked once in surprise, threading his hands through the cool water as he came closer. "Tell me of your family then. Then I can be a judge of how much they will truly hate you." His cloud blue eyes bubbled with amusement, though Adrian frowned at him in suspicion.

He took his time soaking his hair, Adrian rising from the water slowly and beginning to search the banks for soapwort. He had heard the Indians had planted them along the banks of rivers all across the colonies long before the outsiders arrival. "My mother and her family are nobles of the British court. They are part of the King's Alchemists- people who make and provide lotions, oils, and pills. She inherited a vast dowry including several shops in London and property on the countryside. My father is...was...a royal knight of the French court in Versailles. When the French began their petty revolutions he was one of the first to die and our summer home in the French country was burned," Adrian did not sound particularly sad about it, "It was a marriage of convenience. My mother is clever and fierce, she will have a fine match of her choosing soon I am sure."

The soapwort was plenty and sprouted between the rocks. Adrian carefully plucked two or three apart, uprooting them with a look of satisfaction as he began to crush them gently against the rocks. Fia though, looked baffled, he could not even imagine growing in such high society. "So...what? Is your name Lord Adrian then?" he snickered softly, lifting himself from the water and crouching on the banks as he watched Adrian lather the plant in his hands.

Adrian didn't look up, now that he was clean and his skin no longer was dark with bruising it was easy to tell when he was blushing, "Lord Adrian Jervais Soleil, at your service sir. My mother and father were the Baron and Baroness Soleil. My title is simply courtesy for being their child."

Fia stared, watching as Adrian worked the lathered oil over his skin and hair, "What the _seven hells_ are you doing _here_?"

Adrian looked up and around, slowly rinsing his hair, "...bathing?" he murmured in confusion.

The blonde man waved his arms, lifting a straight razor and shaving kit from his bag now, "Not _here_ you blasted-! I mean in a _bloody war_. You're some son of court blood and you're out here fighting a _war?_ "

Adrian gently squeezed his hair dry, working his fingers through it and sighing at the renewed softness of it. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to explain, so he let silence hang once more. The sound of scorn and sharpness in Fia's voice making him snap into protective silence.

Fia shook his head, "Can you speak French?"

The doctor paused, the language switch flowing off his tongue as natural as breathing, " _Je pense que vous êtes très ennuyeux._ "

"Pardon me?"

Adrian raised his honey eyes in an innocent manner to the Lieutenant-Colonel, "I said you are pointing your blade wrong," he flinched in sympathy as Fia nicked himself.

The canonner looked down, inspecting the blade with a frown, "It is simply not very sharp."

He shook his head, sighing as he carefully picked through the river and pulled himself up onto the rock next to the bluecoat. Quietly Adrian held out his hand, "Let me see."

Fia narrowed his eyes, frowning sharply, "Why."

"Because I'm going to do it for you before you slice your own throat."

"I beg your pardon!"

"It's happened before you know- besides you will scar yourself and then where will we be without a pretty face?"

Cloud blue eyes rolled to the heavens in annoyance, "Soleil..."

"You will let me pick a bullet out of your leg but not help you stop doing a patchwork job of your face?"

The men glowered at each other and after a long moment of silence between them Fia handed the knife over and cocked his jaw to the side for Adrian to inspect. Carefully the doctor lathered the blonde stubble and began to work the blade over his skin. Fia glanced from the corner of his eye, staring at him, "Speak French again..." he murmured.

Adrian snorted softly under his breath, " _Vous parlez trop._ "

Blonde brows furrowed and he gave a sigh, "It sounds so pretty in your mouth but how is it that I am _positive_ you're talking back to me?"

"Because I am," Adrian replied smoothly.

Fia rolled his eyes, "Did your mother teach you French?"

It was Adrian's turn to let his gentle brow furrow and a frown to parse his mouth. "My mother taught me nothing more than how to act like I care about what people say," his honey eyes glanced to Fia's confused face and he let out a sigh through his nose, "My sister and I had tutors and were sent off to boarding schools and universities. We were well educated and well taken care for."

"That makes some sense then," Fia murmured, thinking of Adrian's knowledge in medicine, "but didn't she teach you to dance? Or to tell stories or bake?"

A scoff was the only reply.

"That sounds...sad. My mother taught us everything. Even stayed up with us at night to map the stars."

Honey brown eyes found ones of wide, cloudy blue and Adrian turned away as he finished. He stood, finding his undershirt to dry himself with, his motions were jerky and agitated as he pushed his fresh clothes onto his body. Fia simply watched, wide eyed and startled at this sudden and rather aggressive response.

"I didn't mean to offend you."

Adrian paused, drawing himself up and turning enough to see Fia dressing and watching him closely. His motions became more careful, more deliberate to not give away his sharp feelings. They were almost fully packed and ready to leave once more before he spoke at last, "Your mother- she sounds nice."

Fia lifted his head, pulling his bag slowly over his shoulder, "She was."

There it was. One of numerous things that divided them. Fia had lost things he had fought for and didn't deserve to lose and Adrian had lost things he'd never cared for and never known. Their pockets each looking fuller to the others eye while their own remained empty.

Adrian bowed his head, stepping back as Fia lead their way back to the barracks.


	5. Chafing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Echuinox

While he had been given the freedom to remove the shackles that bound his ankles during baths and while changing clothes, Adrian was still followed by the echoed sound of chains rattling. He'd grown used to taking shorter steps and his legs ached to run and stretch again. The doctor was not a fighter, but it did not mean he was not athletic of build and broad of muscle. Now that he was receiving proper rations as the rest of the men and even some extra fish cooked at fires he had filled out once more. The extra energy gave Adrian the ache to run and to test his strength, but the shackles kept him bound.

They were particularly gruesome objects and the proved to always remind people of what he was there to do and why. He was a redcoat and with the haunting sound of chafing cuffs at his ankles and chains clicking together following him no one seemed in a particular hurry to try to forget it.

It was early evening with the night sky still chasing the remnants of the day off the horizon. Cool blues were blending and washing away into warm hues of red and pink. It was a scene Adrian wished he had paints for- or even colored pencils. Behind him the campfire at the center of their supply camp roared and voices seemed to roar with it.

"Come on now tell us of that lovely lass with the big tits back home eh?"

"Oy! Watch your mouth you blundering idiot. That's gonna be my wife one day!"

Adrian turned his head, watching a robust and rather round brunette man with a flushed face glower at a grinning man with black hair. The others seemed to be in an uproar, laughing loudly with Fia joining in their noise. "Awh c'mon Collins. Daughter of a plantation owner? Like hells you're going to end up with her."

Collins flushed deeper, swelling up his chest in pride, "I'm in this war for her you know! Gonna take us to New York once we win this and open us a shop."

The black haired man gagged, "A shop? What the hell you gonna do with a shop? You grew up a wood cutters boy!"

"Well once we're not being taxed out the arse it'll be easier aye? We can make it a carving and lumber shop!"

Fia smiled, patting Collins shoulder, "That sounds a lovely dream Collins!"

A devilish grin was spread from the black haired man's wide mouth, "But if she gets bored you send your pretty lass and her big tits my way eh?"

Collins stood, lifting his skein to throw at the head of the offender when Fia's piney laughter interrupted and gripped the young man's belt, forcing him to sit, "Now, now Collins we all know he's just spirited. Your dream sounds splendid and your lovely lady will sure to want grand adventures with you in New York."

Collins seemed appeased by this enough and shot one last glower at the man before looking to Fia, "What do you plan to do with this Lieutenant-Colonel? If we lick the British what do you plan to do? Any brokenhearted women waiting for you back home?"

Fia's cloud blue eyes sparked in the firelight and a soft, v-shaped grin of fondness parted his mouth, "I have broken many hearts, but nay Collins, none I plan on taking the hand of. My father's print shop was taken in Boston when they began taxing everything that so much as breathed. I've been promised it would be given back when we win." The men all nodded in unison, none alarmed by this but rather looking frustrated and angry at their commander and friend's misfortune as Fia spoke on, "My father will never get a chance to see it...but I hope it will bring him much pride somewhere knowing that my brother and I have reclaimed what he worked so hard for. It was his by right and it will be ours to continue in the family."

A man with golden-brown hair sighed, "My father will never see me be the great banker he hoped for me. He and me mum were killed in a raid a summer ago and my brother with them just this winter."

"The British have taken much from us," Collins said with a rough and unhappy voice, "But we'll take it back won't we men? Hmn? No king across the sea gets to take our money and land without a fight."

There was a pause and the air was humming with lustful energy for battle. Adrian looked away from their eyes and back towards the sky that had been taken over in black, blue, and the painting of stars. The eyes of the men frightened him as surely they were imagining sinking their bayonets into redcoat stomachs. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, slowly trying to shift and untangle himself from his cocoon of blankets so he could simply leave. But the clinks of metal sucked the air out from around him and suddenly six pairs of eyes were all on him.

They were not cruel men, not really, Collins had snuck a jab at him when he'd first arrived but had since apologized for it when Adrian had treated a abscess on his heel and the others had all mumbled words to him here and there. One even seemed to have picked up on some of the local botany and had arrived every morning at the medical tent with fresh supplies. It was the one with the black hair who was the meanest and coarsest. He had been the one to press Adrian's face into the mud nearly a month ago now.

Collins cleared his throat, chin raising, "Er...what do you plan to do Doctor...?"

"Yeah Doctor!" jade green eyes glinted under black hair and made him look like a cat, "What do you plan to do hmn? If the Brits send us all to our graves I'm sure you'll all be but skipping for joy?"

"Can you not be rude for merely a second?" Collins hissed under his breath.

"No! I want to know what the dear Doctor plans on doing!" Other voices joined him now, pressing and prodding for his answer. Collins looked to Fia in dismay.

Fia glowered, the dangerous look of his eye enough to silence them all. After a second he cleared his throat and turned his gaze onto Adrian.

No response came from the doctor. His eyes were wide on his paled face and he looked rather frightened from the attention. Fia took in a soft breath and looked to the others and waved a dismissive hand, "Off to bed men. We leave in the morning hmn?" When groans came as a response his voice raised to a growl, "Off with you lot! You whine and groan more than children. That's an order!"

They sighed in response, picking themselves up slowly to enjoy the last of the fire and finish their beer before moving on. Collins paused a moment, ringing his hands as he thought and frowned down to Adrian. Honey brown eyes just looked back at him in quiet alarm, but whatever the bluecoat was trying to silently say didn't seem to come out and he waved his hands a moment before moving on.

Fia gave a sigh across from him, standing and moving closer to sit on the stump by Adrian's head, "You're going to have to talk more to them eventually. More than just about plants."

Adrian looked up at him, a frown carving his gentle mouth, "They're so...passionate."

"People can be like them when you cheat and steal from them and kill their loved ones."

A slow blink was Adrian's reply, rounded eyes staring up at him in confusion. This was not the side of the story he was told.

Fia sighed, running a hand down the shadow on his jaw, "They have something to fight for. Things and people that drive them. We want freedom here; the power to dictate our own lives and govern ourselves as people. Not have a king hang over us and tell us every step we must take and steal our money and rob our property."

Silence. Always, always silence. Fia sighed, frustration boiling in his chest for this stoic and emotionless man. He turned, ready to shout at Adrian to say something- anything! But Adrian was staring at the skyline again, where the red had disappeared away. "I've never had that before."

"What? Property? You just told me not a week ago that your family has houses and shops and-"

"Not that..."

"Then what?"

Adrian shifted, feeling the irritating chafe of his bonds on his feet and giving a sigh at their rattle, "Something to fight for."

Fia's owlish eyes widened, for once struck with no immediate reply. Instead he sat with Adrian till the doctor shuffled and sat up, untangling himself with the prepared turn of the head to return to their tent. But Fia held up a hand, a silent order for him to wait. He did, watching as the canonner pulled keys from under his shirt and leaning down to unlock the man's legs. Adrian could feel his muscles twitch and jump as they always did at the prospect of freedom. That he could run and sprint and climb without the heavy chains to stifle him. Fia stood, dusting off his sleeve and taking the shackles and the key to them and tossing them in the fire. He turned, watched the golden glow of Adrian's startled eyes, "We believe in freedom and trust here. You gave me your word Doctor. I won't ever ask you to fight for us, but I am trusting you to stay and keep your promises as I plan to keep mine."

They waited, thin air hanging between them as Adrian slowly bowed his head in a nod. They turned then, walking towards the tent together with Fia leading the way. He looked back, just quick enough as he held open the flap of the tent to see Adrian's eyes on the horizon again.

Neither man said a word while they undressed and bedded down into their narrow cots far across from each other. Fia was the first to break the long silence, his piney tone hushed in the darkness. "Why come here at all if you have nothing to fight for? Why not just go home?"

For a long time Fia thought Adrian had fallen asleep. But finally the deep baritone sighed in gentle reply, "I was sort of hoping I wouldn't be given the chance."

"Chance for what?" the noise of Fia turning in his bed creaked between them and Adrian could see the glint of his cloud colored eyes.

"To go home," was his cracked reply.

Stunned silence hung for them with Fia too struck to say anything at first. His mouth had pulled into a thin line as he stared up at the roof of the tent.

For once it was Adrian that was the first to say something while Fia chewed on his words, "I never said it was bad- their passion. I think...I sort of like it. They talk about freedom and choice like it's something they have a right to. They have all these dreams and plans. Even your pathetic medic talks of what his life will be like after the war and all the hospitals he'll start to practice medicine. We don't...have those choices. Everything is just decided for me."

A frustrated snort that bled into a chuckle sighed from Fia, "Perhaps you're fighting for the wrong side."

After a long time, as he was listening to Fia's deep breaths of heavy sleep Adrian finally spoke again. Though now he was sure no one was listening.

"Perhaps I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.


	6. Flintlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Quelfabulous

Like mounted shadows, they filtered through the pillars of birchwood, hooves crunching in a muddled march. A hundred men draped in the earth's rich colors, umber and saddle brown waistcoats with muskets strapped behind them emerging from the forest to the east of the barracks. At it's head, a man of the lightest honey blonde tied in a thick knot over his broad shoulder, cold eyes hung under the dark tricolor hat resting on his brow.

"Captain Theodore Emberfell," he droned at the young corporal of the 17th's parley. The regiment's greeting soldiers turned their horses about and lead the arriving allies behind the stacked log walls of the barracks.

They called him the swamp wolf, for that's where his men best operated, ambushing British caravans passing along known routes in the southern territory of the colony. His men were few yet cunning in the cloak of night, his militia of ardent rebel colonists carrying the venom of scorn in their blood for the crown.The Brits' devotion to the proper code of war was an angle Theo's men exploited grievously with little remorse, using any means of tactic necessary to emerge victorious. Today they had simply arrived to convene with the local continental army regiment and pass along their stolen bounty of supplies.

The Lieutenant-Colonel was leaning against a wagon, cleaning his flintlock  when Theo approached, hucking a satchel of musket balls at his feet. "You've crawled out of the forest again, brother." Fia narrowed his eyes. "What information have you of their movements?"

Theo shuffled on heavy feet over to a nearby log to sit, the axe tethered to his waist clocking gently against the wood. "Three caravans raided in the last week." The melodic tilt of a Scotsman's accent ringing only a bit thicker than Fia's piney tone. "They're close. They're desperate...and I'd imagine they're cross."

"So what you're saying, Theo, is you've done pissed them off while we're here trying to resupply."

"Aye."

Fia pinched his thin lips together in a flat line, shoving the metal rod briskly down the barrel of the pistol with a cloth. "I'm positive Colonel Barron will most appreciate such."

Theo frowned. "If they cross my road with a British flag, they're dead men."

The cannoneer's cloud blue eyes lifted  from the dismantled weapon in his hands, studying the seriousness across his sibling's brow. The same shade of blue looked back at him, marred by a shared memory. Fia could say nothing for he knew why the man's moral compass spun such a way. Theo sighed, standing up and giving a nod before turning foot. But the swamp wolf stopped in his steps as Fia's words met his ear.

"What will you tell the Colonel?"

Theo turned over his shoulder, a smirk given that was one only a sibling knew well of. "Only what he needs to know."

Much of the day was spent by the regiment packing their fresh supplies into wagons, leaving only tents, bedding and weapons on hand to file away for a departure on the morrow’s early morning. Adrian watched the army’s Colonel emerge from his quarters with the rustic Captain of the militia parting conversation on heavy footsteps, ever wondering what was said to have soured the commanding officer’s expression. The doctor milled yarrow in a pestle under his hand in the canopy of an open tent, taking to something easier after a long afternoon of heaving empty cots onto a nearby wagon. It was refreshing to stretch his muscles a bit, and truthfully he didn’t mind helping.

But now he watched the Lieutenant-Colonel emerge from Barron’s tent and the silver-haired commander turned, murmuring something into Fia’s ear. The cannoneer nodded and without further word, began making his way, tent-to-tent. An order had been given.

The sun had slipped under the autumn color of the horizon and the sky above speckled with tiny lights. The moon hung yellow and low in the sky, a full and bright face in the drape of night. The regiment’s four wagons were loaded and parked on the lower hill of the site, it’s fifth awaiting the few tents still up and bedding as many soldiers slept under the stars in full or partial uniform with the anticipation of moving out in just a few hours.

Adrian made a noise of discomfort and annoyance as he turned over in his wrap of blankets, displeased his cot had to be packed with many of the others. He was tired enough that the grass floor of Fia’s tent would do for him to rest on, grateful that the canvas at least broke the light breeze pushing through the barracks grounds.

The thrum of crickets accompanied the padding of patrolling boots, the hilt of Fia’s rapier sheath clinking softly against brass buttons on his coat. He was wide awake, and ordered so with three others, owl-like eyes watching the perimeter of the surrounding wood for movement as they moved about the resting camps. The cannoneer looked down at Theodore in passing with a furrow in his brow, looking at one another very much awake. The glint of his brother’s cold eyes sent a prickle down his spine, watching the swamp wolf’s painted stallion flare his nostrils and flick his fuzzy ears alertly from the post a few feet away from them.

“Shouldn’t you find some shut-eye, Captain?” murmured Fia quietly.

Theo tilted his stubbled chin, carefully half-cocking the hammer on his musket and sifting a paper cartridge from his satchel. “I can’t sleep,” he coolly replied, pouring powder under the cap and ramming the ball and filling down the barrel. “Not with a moon this full in the sky.”

Fia lofted a brow. “You’re wariness leaves me at unease, brother.”

The hammer cocked back on his musket and a sharp snap of flint and gunpowder roared from its barrel. Fia flicked a look of horror behind him as a groan passed the lips of a British dragoon fell to the ground. At least a dozen torches lit at once several hundred feet away by the sharpened log stacks, an enemy squadron now in the head of ambush.

“As it should,” quipped Theo, ripping up from his blankets in full gear and rallying the nearby men.

Fia bolted to the nearby stallion hooking boot in stirrup and beckoning the creature into a gallop of alarm, Theo having no time to give care that his brother had stolen his horse.

“Enemies in quarter! At attention! Make ready!” bellowed Fia, tearing through the camp.

Colonel Barron roared out of his tent. “Defend the wagons! Fire at will!”

Shouts peeled through the camp with the pounding of hooves across the ground and the glow of fire weaving into the startled regiment of colonial soldiers. The snap and cacophony of gunfire erupted in the whisper of the night. Adrian laid wrapped in his blankets and silent in the tent as his heart pressed tightly against his ribcage in panic. Fia’s voice carried with the commanding officer’s howls in alarm. The smell of fire penetrating his nostrils finally got him to rip up from his covers and shuffle on his boots. He wasn’t asked to fight. But the orange glow through the canvas of the tent was a haunting reminder of what fire was capable of, one that left him too anxious to remain there.

On the other side of the camp now, Fia hollered over startled heads and more wide eyes jolted out of sleep. “Fire at will! Enemies in quarter! Rise! Ri-- !” The beast underneath him bellowed something awful as a cold bullet was taken to the stallion’s knee, the horse tripping on his front ankles in gallop and breaking his neck with the impact of the ground. The Lieutenant-Colonel was thrown from the steed’s back in an unceremonious collapse, rolling off his shoulder only to be quickly pinned to the ground by several dragoons.

Thirteen crown infiltrators had the east wall of the 17th regiment’s barracks in utter chaos as hurriedly soldier’s bailed water from horse troughs to put out flames threatening the supplies they had fought through enemy lines to get. By now, hundreds of men had roused from sleep, searching for the perpetrators as gunshots went quiet. Adrian emerged from behind the empty wagon as the chaos seemed to settle, his honey eyes wide and wary in diligent sight of any injured.

“Oi, Collins is missin’,” the doctor overheard a passing conversation as he wandered the camp. A cold stone began to drop in the doctor’s stomach, wondering if the ambush had indeed taken hostages. Men were shouting now about others’ whereabouts, but a sharp cry snapped his attention to Theodore who was now crouched at a dead horse. Adrian was wary to approach, knowing vaguely about the man’s disdain for loyalists and all of their associations. The doctor sucked in a breath and found a space to stand beside the swamp wolf.

“My horse…” The captain’s strained voice whispered in dismay.

There was a long still moment before Adrian spoke up. “...I’m sorry for your loss.”

Theo’s cold eyes slowly shifted to the man beside him, his long face a stone mask. But the doctor’s attention was now entirely taken by the glint of brass and navy cloth in the grass nearby. He made a quick foot over to it only to discover in alarm it was Fia’s coat and satchel, paper cartridges spilled and scattered about from it. His rapier and flintlock still tethered to a torn belt, a charred hole evident of the pistol being fired within its holster. Panic set into Adrian once more, his jaw working at the sight as he picked up Fia’s coat and inspected it for bullet holes grimly. It was Theo now that joined Adrian at the scene that looked like a struggle, knowing well his brother had taken off on his horse only to warn his fellow soldiers of the danger.

The swamp fox picked up Fia’s strewn armaments with something wrathful tightening his silhouette. “Soleil, you know how to fire a gun?”

Adrian swallowed. “How do you kn--”

“I know who you are. I know who everyone is. I know you’re a goddamn redcoat too.”

He stiffened, averting his eyes from Theo.

“Answer the question.”

Adrian’s gaze slowly returned, admitting weakly. “....I can fire one, yes. I’m...not a good shot.”

“Good,” Theo dropped the flintlock and sheathed rapier into the doctor’s hands. “It looks like the redcoats have hauled off with now four of our own- the bloody bampots shot the horse out from under him. Pick up a fresh satchel and meet me at the Colonel’s tent. They’re still en route. If we gather a posse quickly, we can get our men back.”

Adrian glowered at the other man. “With all due respect, Captain, I’m best here to care for injuries on return. I--”

“He spoke well of you,” Theo continued, interrupting his protest. “Key snatcher. An eye for weaknesses. A man of his word. Now I asked you, Soleil, if _you could fire a gun_.”

The doctor’s face grew red under his freckles with frustration. “Yes but-”

“It’s an order, Subaltern. Move out.”

Adrian watched the swamp wolf turn around and pace back towards the gathering men around the barracks common, shaking his head as he stepped around the fallen horse. He gripped Fia's jacket tight in his hands, brushing a finger down the lapel and taking an uneasy breath. It wasn't broad enough to fit his shoulders but with careful hands he tied it tight about his waist. The doctor thought of Collins, of Fia, of the other many men who were taken. They had one chance to get them back because once they were behind the lines of the British Adrian knew that they would never be found or seen again.

He wondered why the idea didn't bring him pleasure.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat he took a deep breath and turned, "Captain!" he shouted, seeing Theo turn and loft blonde brows to him, "You can't go in blind I...I know where their route is heading..."

Theo gave a smile, brushing his fingers along the blade of his axe. "Then let us move out then."


	7. Gunpowder Forests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Echuinox and Quelfabulous

At first, he didn’t know where they were.

Hazy, he opened his eyes, a vision of gray and moonlit faces merging into focus with the soft clap of hooves under the rumbling wagon.

Wagon.

_ Wagon. _

They were in a wagon.

His face turned to a shape, a man now, hoarsely whispering a name at him in worry.

“Emberfell….Emberfell, wake up.”

He groaned, licking his blood wet, stinging lip. He was beginning to come to, realising it was Collins sitting next to him with his brows high with dismay on his face. Fia felt his face wrinkle with discomfort as he moved to sit up and in the process, realized his hands were bound in front of him with shackles.His ribs ached and his head even moreso and for several moments, hot breath left his nostrils as his clammy forehead pressed to the wood floor of the wagon. 

The other men looked around at one another in silence, worry on their faces as their one superior wasn’t entirely with them. The narrowed eyes of the dragoons riding either side of the wagon were sharp on them and morale was beginning to wane. Collins looked down once more at his Lieutenant-Colonel, the blonde man falling still again save for the heaves of his chest.

“Emberfell...Come on, Emberfell.” 

“Hey! Quiet in there!” barked one of the dragoons sternly at Collins. The corporal sank down a little in his seat in the bare bottomed wagon. Fia groaned again, rolling onto his back and lifting his eyes to the ceiling above him. A canopy of dense, dark shapes that broke into littered lighter parts with stars trickling in between. The canonneer could pick up the scent of maple and arbor, putting the clues together that they were traveling en forest route. If anything, he appeared apathetic to the other men making faces with one another around him, but it was far from the truth; he was trying to think through the pain.

The wary snort from one of the horses made him look up and over at the other men in the wagon. They looked at him with the wide eyes of loyal hounds awaiting commands, but none came. Only the stare of his light blue eyes were given, not fixating on any one thing. Another anxious noise rumbled in one of the nearby horses’ chests.

Fia’s bloody lip curled into the slightest grin before he finally rasped. “Get down.”

Before Collins and the others had another second to decipher their superior officer’s odd request, gunfire erupted around them. All of them crouched down behind the walls of the wagon as shouts peeled the air and the thud of the mounted dragoon’s body rocked the vehicle. The flashes of flintlock hammers danced along the edges of the surrounding vegetation like menacing red fireflies, smoke and gunpowder making the air thick with a dense, choking fog. First came the orchestra of blasts from the woods and then the second sounded the roar of the dragoon’s muskets. The third wave turned into a clatter of steel, wood, voice and bone as the men hiding in the forest’s cloak descended on the dragoons. The ambiance was something both terrifying and oddly exciting, enough to grab Collins’s curiosity in peeking up from the wagon’s edge.

Streaks of crimson splattered liberally as a weighted blade of wood and steel sank into the former wagon driver’s skull. Up stepped a cold-eyed man soiled and shining with blood, prying his axe from the body with a ruthless kick of his boot as if he’d pulled something distasteful from it. 

“Oi! It’s the swamp wuff!” hooted Collins, the others in the wagon, sitting up and cheering. Theo had not the time to encourage them as another dragoon was quickly on his hands to deal with, the man making melee mayhem among the short distance armed enemies.

“Get down you idiots!” Fia’s voice hissed harshly as pain narrowed one of his eyes. “Unless you’re armed and free of shackles you stay down!”

The roars of battle continued and the wagon rocked back and forth. There was the definite noises of wood smashing as the object jerked and a corner fell to the ground and knocked many of the men into the wall. Irritated and hurting Fia carefully peeked over the edge. Bluecoats and redcoats were running, roaring, and scattering in every direction possible. But dread filled his stomach as two redcoats approached the wagon, arms windmilling as they tried to catch their footing in the mud.

“Get the blasted devils out of there and shoot them!”

“Don’t let them escape! If they want their men they can have their rotting bodies!”

Fia dropped back down, all of the shackled prisoners swiveling their heads to the back of the wagon as it ripped open. A redcoat with a furious face began to climb in with a rapier raised. Blanching Fia dropped back, shuddering in horror. So this is how he was to die then. Head aching and body sore Fia raised his chin proudly and stared the best he could into the eyes of the redcoat as he pushed forward. He would not allow his men to be the firsts to die in this wagon.

A shot rang out.

In such close proximity that Fia felt like his head had exploded from the noises and the flash of gunpowder. At first he thought one of his men had been shot and he turned, expecting one of them to slump to the floor of the wagon with bullet holes in their chests. But no, they were all owl eyed and staring past Fia as the redcoat behind them tumbled off the side and to the ground below.

It was Adrian with his pistol raised, unblinking and unflinching at the blood that had sprayed across his face and Fia’s jacket wrapped around his waist. Fia watched with his mouth open, hardly believing it and perhaps wondering if it was his hurting skull that was causing this illusion. The second redcoat was yelling and charging at them, musket raised. Adrian turned and with hands that moved in a blur his pistol was stocked and reloaded and aimed in his fist. His face did not twitch or move as he shot the bewildered enemy in the throat and sliced the jugular. The redcoat clutched his neck, gagging as he collapsed to the ground and coating the front of Adrian’s shirt. The men gaped as Adrian looked up, a cold and apathetic look upon his face. Fia watched as the doctor leaned down and calmly rummaged the bodies for keys.

“Subaltern S-Soleil…” Collins sighed in relief as Adrian freed his wrist of the shackles and just stared at the normally gentle and passive doctor’s blood covered form.

Fia was freed last, lifting his wrists to the man who hurriedly set his hands free. Theo was upon them, face blazing with the kill and looking Adrian up and down, “You said you couldn’t shoot!” he accused in frustration.

Adrian said nothing, he looked uncaring as he checked Fia and the other men over for bullet holes.

Theo shook his head, eyes narrowing to Fia’s apathetic look and flinching, “Took a tumble did you brother?” he sighed, pushing his heavy mantle of hair behind his shoulder.

“You came after us,” Fia groaned to Adrian and Theo.

Adrian’s eyes were on the body of a redcoat at his feet and he said nothing.

Theo’s voice was booming, “Aye, we did. Couldn’t let the lot of you get dragged off behind the lines now could we? We need to get moving and fast. Loot what you can and take those carriage horses before someone comes around wondering about the shouting.”

The now free prisoners shouted their joy and ran to aid the other troops in looting and handling the startled horses. Fia though, was slower and much more sluggish. Theo made a face of concern and looked to Adrian, “The fuck is wrong with him.”

Adrian’s own eyes were lit with concern as he put his hands on the cannoneer’s shoulders to steady him. “He got thrown from a horse,” his finger brushed along the bloody lip of Fia, who gave him a startled and confused expression, “You hit your head.”

“Mm’fine,” Fia sighed. Everything hurt. His head was pounding and he felt like he was going to vomit onto Adrian’s boots. Pushing away Adrian’s concerned and gentle hands he stumbled forward and gripped his head. It felt like the forest had flipped upside down and he was standing on the surface of the sky. He leaned over, hands on his knees and gasping. He could hear Theo and Adrian mumbling and bickering behind him before a cold, strong hand slid down the heat of his spine. Fia didn’t know if it felt good or bad really and turned his head just enough to see a long red braid and had just enough sense to know it was Adrian’s.

“We need to move out!” Theo’s shout shattered his mind and Fia wobbled on his feet. Men were yelling and images were blurring in front of his vision. The ground was swaying under his feet and he put an arm out to catch himself from falling over.

The world became topsy turvy again but this time for a much different reason. He was lifted up and held against something strong and firm but pleasantly warm. A frown sharpened his mouth, half expecting it was the Swamp Wolf who had so unceremoniously lifted him. But the shot of white-blonde hair ran by and Theo was taking the lead to get them all away from here and back towards safety. Fia tilted his head back, gazing up at the honey brown eyes of Adrian and the set of a determined jaw that made Fia’s own slack in surprise.

“Just hold onto me,” Adrian’s baritone voice vibrated through his chest and against Fia’s side and arms. He lifted Fia’s arms to wrap around his neck and a strong, cold hand pressed firmly into his back. Adrian’s other arm was tucked under his knees, holding him tightly as Fia’s chin all but rested on a broad shoulder. The doctor began to run, bolting through the forest after the others with apparent ease. Fia weighed nothing to him and though Adrian was definitely no smooth thoroughbred horse, his gait was lean and strong. Questions roared through Fia’s mind of this mysterious man who had seemed so gentle of nature and body and who turned out to be as brutal and strong as the rest of them.

But quickly the questions and the curiosity was replaced with an ache to his head and jolt of pain in his body. He tucked his eyes against Adrian’s shoulder and clung for dear life with the hopes he wouldn’t be dropped by the broad man. The world was blacked out and Fia timed his quickened breathing with that of Adrian’s slamming heart against his ear as they escaped. 


	8. Cranberry Tart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.
> 
> This chapter written by: Echuinox & Quelfabulous

They were headed for Scusset, a small town on the bay well within patriot friendly territory, their journey across the western part of the colony was a careful one of nearly two weeks, moving around British forces unseen while tending their weakened men in the scuffle at the barracks deep in the countryside. As the landscape began to flatten out into swampy, wetland plains, Fia was ever recovering from his head sickness. Their first few days of travel, he’d spent resting in a heap of quilts and bedding in one of the wagons. It wouldn’t be until the eve of the fifth day the man finally had his strength to walk again, and now as the 17th regiment crested the hill overlooking the town’s white steeple and square with the backdrop of sea on the horizon, Fia’s blue eyes looked out from on horseback once more, leading a strong draft mare hauling a canon in tow.

The regiment’s wagons pulled along with the clap of soldier’s boots and animal’s hooves, townsfolk all but eager to peek out their windows and doors, waving the tired parade of hundreds of continental soldiers to dock their steeds and vehicles around the town’s central square. The air of the little town was alive with rejoyce, hearing well of the regiment’s recovery from the dragoons’ ambush. Family and significant others were quick to follow out and find their loved ones in blue coats, embraces and chattering of concerns and relief alike. Fia looked up from blocking the wheels on his canon to watch his brother slip down from his horse and greet a woman draped in a verdant cloak with a basket of sweet bread on her arm.

Just nights ago, the ardent honey haired man was covered from head to toe in the blood of the crown’s men with his axes held menacingly in each of his tiger paws for hands. But the veins that crossed Theo’s knuckles spoke with a much gentler strength as he approached and embraced her with an impassioned longing, nearly picking her right up off her feet. Fia smiled as she waved over Theo’s shoulder at him, her hair almost as light golden as the swamp wolf’s. He turned, shifting the other block into place and went to gather his saddlebags from the nearby mare.

Minutes passed as the canonneer took a quick inventory of his things, shuffling out coin to offer the innkeeper for a bed to stay. His tent was nice, but he was certainly ready for something different. Theo leaned on the other side of the saddle.

“Emiline says the pub is throwing a celebration for us tonight. One free pint on the house at seven o’clock. Gonna join me, eh?”

Fia flinched, startled by his brother’s sudden appearance over the saddle. Normally it wasn’t given a second thought. To drink? To indulge? To flirt with the hostesses and watch their faces turn rosy in color with a flick of his eyes. It certainly made up for the slight envy he had in his brother’s dedicated courtship. Fia had no such luck with women, though he wouldn’t complain of their eagerness to strip him down to skin. He didn’t fully understand why he couldn’t look back at his sibling and respond with a resounding agreement. Perhaps it was related to what had been on his mind since the day his coherence returned.

“Maybe,” he bleated, unfastening the tack from the draft mare’s chin with a weak smile. “I have a few things to catch up on first. Then perhaps I’ll join you.”

Theo scrunched his nose. “That’s unlike you. You really did hit your head hard, didn’t you?”

Fia scoffed in annoyance. “Does her loyalist father yet know the British army has a warrant for your head?”

“Ey. Don’t be shitting on my hope and dream just because you can’t get the same broad to lay with you twice,” Theo pointed one of his thick fingers at the blonde man across the saddle before turning away, waving over his shoulder. “See you tonight or not, I suppose.”

The cannoneer rolled his eyes and sniffed haughtily. The pink on his cheeks branded him guilty of the petty thought. Thinking he was likely in need, the Lieutenant-Colonel took his things and made a first stop at the inn before heading out on his own for some fresh air and reverie.

Fia wandered out of the noise of the town through a small thicket of trees to the west before he came to a very large, open wetland lake, the water glimmering thick with beads of cranberry. It was something serene and quiet to look out on, the other end of the lake steepled by the white trunks of birch in clusters of fiery maple trees. Something about being near water was a calming experience for him and somehow...he knew it was for someone else too. Fia’s face continued in pan of the scenery until his eyes came to rest on the doctor, who had found  himself perched on a nearby slab of bedrock jutting out from the water’s edge.

The man’s face carried the same coldness it had since that very night. Very few words had left the man’s lips outside of necessity. Adrian was playing with the rocks, gently trying to skip them and instead creating small splashes in the ocean below him. The waves pushed and pulled and far, far across the horizon there were signs of a storm that would come. But for now it was peaceful and the sun turned his hair to a flaming red and his honey eyes a bright gold. Fia stood and watched him, quiet and confused, because Adrian looked like he was made of fire and heat but his eyes and face ruined the effect and instead made it icy. Fia took his time walking down the slope and out onto the rock, he looked down, Adrian’s knees tucked to his chest and his cheek resting on his knee with his palms resting on the cool rock underneath him. He didn’t look up towards Fia, nor did he say anything.

Slowly, Fia sat down beside him, squinting at the horizon. He let them sit in comfortable silence for a while, making sure Adrian wouldn’t push him away. When no sign of such a thing happening came Fia turned his head to regard the Doctor, “Do you think they can see us? All the way across the ocean. I wonder how far it is…”

Adrian said nothing, nor did his head lift. His mutism continued with only the barest rise and fall of his shoulders to tell he was even alive.

“I hope not,” Fia continued, voice soft on the wind, “I’d like their noses to not be up our arses for once.”

Adrian’s shoulders twitched and he took a deep breath, but still his silence clung tight.

“I’ve heard all the men...asking you about your marksman's abilities. Saying that we should use you, keep you and make you kill...you know I would never let them do so don’t you?”

Finally, the doctor’s head turned, slowly he rested his other cheek on his knee with his eyes gazing at Fia. Wide eyed and remorseful. Fia let out a sigh, at least he now had his attention.

“I don’t...understand. You could have stayed behind. You could have even fled away with them and gone back to the redcoats. Why didn’t you…?”

Adrian’s eyes rounded on his face, “I couldn’t,” he rasped. His voice hoarse like he’d been crying. Fia’s eyes became owlish in response. He couldn’t imagine a man like the doctor ever crying and he wondered where and when...but then he didn’t need that answer. Adrian had been distant and cold, spending long hours as far away as people would let him.

“You couldn’t.”

His head nodded slowly.

“I don’t understand.” Fia shook his head, voice careful, “Soleil you are...free to do whatever you wish. If you want to go back you have more than earned your end of the bargain. I will gladly walk you to the edge of a encampment if you wish it.”

A slow breath came in and he let it out again. Adrian shifted, lifting his head up now to look at the ocean. “I don’t…I don’t know what I want. Where I want to be. I just know I can’t...I can’t go back there. Not yet. Maybe not at all.”

Fia frowned, watching Adrian and hoping for a further explanation. But Adrian seemed to have lapsed, he was watching the grassy sand now as the ocean pushed in it’s evening tide. How he wished he could shake the man. To even shout at him in frustration and beg for him to simply explain what it was he wanted for once. But the doctor seemed as confused as Fia felt and with a carefully checked sigh of patience he stood. He held down his hands, wiggling his long fingers for Adrian to grab hold, “I don’t understand what it is you’re going through. Why it is you’re in so much pain and why you can’t seem to talk to anyone about it. But I’ll be here when you find the words for it Soleil; I owe you this at least. For now...the beach is lovely and I can see a cranberry bog just over yonder. How about we walk hmn?”

Round, sad honey eyes gazed up at Fia and after a long moment he slipped his hands obediently into Fia’s and rocked to a standing position. “I suppose…” he murmured.

They carried their shoes in their hands as they wandered through the grass and Fia bravely even walked to shin length into the water. They spoke of little things as they went. Of things they liked and hobbies they had. Adrian spoke with intense fondness of his painting and the lovely room he had overlooking the fields that he spent hours working away in. Fia spoke of star mapping, of his quiet evenings in the forest exploring the sky and wooded paths by lantern light. Fia lifted a shell from the water, inspecting the pearly whiteness with a smile and showing Adrian. The doctor leaned down, lifting a muddy shell and making a face.

Fia shook his head, turning it in Adrian’s palm, “No, see? The outside is browned and course...but the inside is like an opal.”

Amazed, Adrian lifted the shell to the sun, his eyes rounded in wonderment as he ran his fingers over the softened surface. “Incredible…”

Fia’s mouth took on a v-shaped curve. “Some things are rough on the outside but...if you look inside them they can be quite beautiful.”

Adrian looked at Fia for a moment, before silently turning away and looking yonder towards the vast bogs dappled in red, “What are cranberries?”

“You’ve never had cranberries!?” Fia was aghast with horror and Adrian simply shook his head. The cannoneer gripped his wrist tight and all but dragged him down the beach towards the bogs waiting before them. “They are simply the best berry there is. You’ll love them! We used to make pies and tarts and jams from them every summer!”

Adrian looked sceptical, squinting down at the water below them and wrinkling is nose at the bright red berries. Fia took great handfuls and tugged them free, waving to some workers in the distance and receiving a jubilant wave in return. Smiling at Adrian’s unsure face he poured a handful into the doctor’s waiting, cupped palms and looked expectantly with a wide smile for him to eat them. Fia knelt down, plucking a few for himself and gorging a mouthful of them gleefully and watching Adrian with owl eyes of excitement.

Mouth pouting a bit Adrian glanced to Fia, seeing his excitement and giving a sigh. He took three berries and popped them into his mouth. They looked sweet and full of juices, so perhaps they would not be so ba-

Adrian’s face slowly, slowly scrunched up at the tartness. His chewing slowed and his lips puckered a bit as his left eye twitched. This was definitely not the taste he was expecting and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Fia, in the meantime, was howling with laughter, covering his eyes to shut out the silly image of the doctor scrunching up his face, “You don’t like them?” he teased gently.

The doctor returned the berries for Fia to enjoy, licking his teeth and shuddering as he tried to rid himself of the taste, “I don’t think I do…” he murmured in distress, “How do you  _ eat _ these things?”

Fia happily put the handful into his mouth, his cheeks becoming like a chipmunks in delight, “They are simply scrumptious,” he muffled.

A deep chuckle rumbled Adrian’s chest and he shook his head with a sigh, “I will never understand you.”

“How do the French say it?  _ Touché? _ ,” Fia shot back. But after a moment he took Adrian’s wrist again and lead hum up the hill and away from the ocean, “Come on, I can show you where the wild blueberries grow. I have a feeling you will find them far more satisfactory.”

They wandered the grassy woods for hours and the sun was beginning to set when they returned with their coats hanging heavy and full of blueberries. “Perhaps we can bake a pie with these!” Fia chirped in excitement, dreaming now of blueberry and cranberry pie and jam to gorge on.

But Adrian’s eyes were on the horizon and the sun setting down below it. He had the distant, vacant look in his expression that he’d held for the past two weeks and for a moment Fia wondered if his will to live had sapped with the setting of the sun. It was like Adrian was powered by the sun, always seeming so much happier during the daytime and lapsing into depressive silence at night. The cannoneer came to stand beside Adrian, looking at him and his stony face in confusion.

It was a long time before Adrian could talk and when the words finally came out they were tight with anxiety. “I have a sister. My twin. Her name’s Valerie. When my mother forced me to go to war she went mad, she broke everything she could get her hands on and locked herself in her room. She knew I didn’t want to go and that going would be my death sentence.”

Fia was stunned, looking to Adrian in deep confusion, “Why...why were you forced? Why would anyone make you go?”

Adrian was quiet for a long time again before he gave a loud, frustrated sigh, “I refused to marry a woman. My mother and father made me court her all through our young years. Going to dances and balls, meeting in court, going on walks at my university, teas at her family’s estate, and her and my parents spoke fondly of our eventual marriage. But I didn’t...want to. I didn’t want any of it and neither did she. We were friends but...she loved a farmer that cared for some land her family owned and I didn’t...I  _ don’t _ think of women that way. As wives or as child bearers. She ran away with the farmer and I was freed of my burden and told my mother I had no intentions of marrying her or any woman at all. So she sent me away. She said I was... _ odd _ . That the war would fix my  _ male instincts _ .”

Fia blinked, slow and wide eyed, “Odd,” he bleated back in curious bewilderment.

But the doctor kept on, turning his flaming face away to hide his embarassment, “Valerie was furious. I was on a ship coming to the Colonies. I hate water, can’t even swim, and I was seasick the whole way. We were a week into our journey when a young man came from the shadows dressed as a soldier and gripped my arm. But it wasn’t a young man, it was Valerie.”

Fia clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked and trying to keep from laughing, “Your sister! She snuck aboard?”

Adrian gave Fia a withering look, “She refused to let me go to war alone. She has always been wild and a fighter and she knows I...I can’t stand to kill. She’d smuggled our mother’s pride wolf hounds over the sea with her. We dressed her as a man and admittedly she could shoot and use a rapier better than half the entire ships worth of men. We bullied and brawled the men into letting us be in the same regiment when we came ashore so we could keep her secret. She’s a better alchemist than I ever was or will ever be and she would collect the herbs we needed. She was promoted to my assistant and kept to the medical tent with me,” he gave a sigh and then a deep chuckle, “we got away with it.”

The cannoneer gave a slow shake of the head, “What a feisty woman. Your twin? I can see it, it must be all the red hair that makes you lot so confrontational.”

A slow nod was given in response before Adrian looked to the distance again in dismay, “But the night I was captured...when your men destroyed our camp and chased our men away...we got separated. I was out in the forest looking for her. She’d been looking for plants to help a fever outbreak.”

Dread and regret made Fia turn cold, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he hissed, suddenly alarmed. But Adrian gave him a sad, remorseful look and the Lieutenant-Colonel gave a sigh of frustration, “You didn’t trust me.”

“She escaped, obviously, or she was dead and better that way too then captured by a bundle of men who hadn't seen a woman in months. We wouldn’t have been able to keep her secret if she came to you.” Adrian paused, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and meant it.

“Why tell me now then?” Fia barked, unsure why he was so hurt and annoyed by Adrian’s lack of trust.

“Because your Swamp Wolf knows where she is,” Adrian murmured. Fia’s head jerked to the side, eyes becoming huge in surprise. Adrian gave an annoyed smile, “She switched sides that night, apparently she’s been running wild with his militiamen in the woods. Her and the hounds are west somewhere with the other half of the men causing chaos. They're calling her the Kennel Master...she always did have a way with the dogs.”

Fia’s mouth was popped open in shock, “Blast! Please tell me you’re joking. Is this why you can’t go back?”

Adrian nodded, shrugging his shoulders, “I need to know why she is helping bluecoats and I need to know she’s safe.”

“But what about what  _ you _ want? You’ve been helping us too. You...you shot those Kingsmen. With excellent aim I might add.”

Silence hung between them. Night had fallen and fireflies were beginning to bubble about them when Adrian finally spoke again with his eyes following the tiny bugs. “I couldn’t...let them kill Collins, or you, or any of the others. I was raised on hunting and shooting Lieutenant-Colonel. We had nothing else to do but perfect our aim.”

Fia regarded the doctor with a quiet quizzical look, slipping a few more blueberries into his mouth as the other man continued.

“Your men have dreams and goals and places they want to go and people they want to be. They speak of their families. Of their freedom and all the plans they have and the people they want to make proud. I couldn’t...let those dreams be lost.”

Fia just looked at Adrian, baffled and shaking his head, “You fought for us...so we could live to see our futures?”

Adrian began to walk down the hill, leading them towards the town and it’s lights in the distance, “I may not have any dreams or any goals. But all of you do and that’s...something worth fighting for. I want to learn what my dreams are too.”

They walked in silence, the pushing of waves and the wind tossing their hair as they carefully walked over bedrock and balanced the blueberries in their coats. Adrian had made his way to the bottom and looked up, waiting for Fia to join him. But the cannoneer was looking down at him with intense contemplation. This doctor who had been with them now for months and described as cold, quiet, rough, different, mysterious... _ odd _ .

“You know Subaltern Soleil.”

Adrian tilted his head, lifting his chin, “What is it?”

Fia’s mouth curved into a smile, eyeing the waist where his blue jacket had been tied tight the night before, “You’re starting to talk more and more like a rebel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be posted by myself and Quelfabulous who can be found on their twitter: https://twitter.com/QuelFabulous
> 
> These characters belong to us. Please do not use them under any means as your own.


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